


A Gerbil by Any Other Name

by Sagnessagiel



Category: Underrealm (Books)
Genre: College AU, M/M, Modern AU, coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-07-29 13:10:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16264862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sagnessagiel/pseuds/Sagnessagiel
Summary: "This," she says loudly enough for Jordel to hear her, "says Gerbil."She looks up at him as he reappears in the doorway."Why does it say Gerbil?"Jordel bristles."Because some people don't understand intonation," he says. "Or words."





	1. Chapter 1

Vivien is staring at a page full of words which are beginning to blur together when the front door to the apartment flies open and Jordel storms in. 

"Early class?" she asks without looking up. At first there is nothing but the clatter of his searching. His bedroom is much less of a mess than hers is, but that is not saying much. He reappears in the doorway for only a few moments as he dumps a backpack on the floor and places a cup of coffee on the coffee table beside her. It is a Starbucks cup, likely from the place down the street. 

Vivien raises her eyebrows. 

"Yes," Jordel says and disappears through the doorway again. He looks harried, his hair a mess.

More clattering. Vivien considers the cup. It is early, so it is more likely that Jordel has gotten something straightforward and normal than those sugary disasters he tends to get in the afternoons. She glances at the doorway, a subtle check that the coast is clear. 

She picks up the cup and takes an experimental sip. Black coffee. Score. 

Before the second sip, however, she happens to glance at the actual cup. This text is much clearer than her little book words, and they catch her attention easily. She blinks. 

"This," she says loudly enough for Jordel to hear her, "says Gerbil." 

She looks up at him as he reappears in the doorway. 

"Why does it say Gerbil?"

Jordel bristles. 

"Because some people don't understand intonation," he says. "Or words."

With that, he picks up his bag, slings it over his shoulder, and leaves the apartment in a characteristic huff. 

Vivien shrugs and sips her now free coffee.

* * *

It seems to be some sort of running joke. Upon further inspection, it seems to come only from the one barista. 

Vivien has not met him, but it is quite telling how Jordel will not stop talking about him. Jordel seems honestly bothered by it, and Vivien has a hard time understanding why that is. 

"Dude. It's just a cup of coffee. What's the problem?"

"The problem is that he's doing it on purpose," Jordel insists. Vivien looks at the counter, far off in the other end of the room. A girl with blonde hair stands behind it, looking slightly bored but definitely in service mode. 

"Wait," she says, trying and failing to piece things together, "She served me before you got here. Did he come out here just to mess with you?"

Jordel's eyes are pleading. "See? I think he's supposed to be on a break. He keeps saying it's an honest mistake, but he's messing with me."

Vivien looks skeptically at him. She picks up the cup between them and turns it around. Her eyebrows raise. 

"Doorbell. Huh." Her mouth twitches. "Creative."

Jordel rubs at his eyes. It may be cramming season, but something tells Vivien that there is more to this than just stress and annoyance. 

* * *

She sees the infamous troublemaker for the first time a few weeks later. She sits at the same table they always get, across from Jordel's brother-in-law. Jordel's sister is in the bathroom, and Jordel himself is by the counter, patiently trying to explain himself to an innocently wide-eyed man that makes Vivien want to laugh out loud. 

Now, Vivien has not said much more than two words to Xain, Jordel's brother-in-law, since they met. They are more tied together by their connections to the siblings than to each other. Now, however, she finds herself in need of a second opinion. 

"So that barista's definitely flirting with him, no?" she asks. "I see no other explanation to this."

Xain turns to her then. As many words as she has said to him before, he has also said to her. She can see the slight surprise on his face, but he says nothing of it. Instead he leans forward with an odd glint in his eyes, reaching for the cup of coffee he has ordered for himself. It is some form of complicated pumpkin mess that Vivien would never go near, and another reason they have nothing in common. 

At first instead of picking it up, he turns it so that she can see the name on it. In crisp, black letters it reads, "Jordel."

"I'd say so, yes," he says simply, and picks it up to take a sip. 

Vivien laughs.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps I will someday add actual depth to this au. For now, I'm just having fun with it :)

Mag is sitting on the bed reading an article on her laptop when she hears the front door open and close. She expects Sten to come in and settle in the room with her, but instead it is Albern who comes in. Without saying a word, he lets himself fall and dramatically flop on the bed next to her, face down on the covers. 

Mag finishes the sentence she is reading before she asks, "Rough day?"

There is a second or two of silence, and then Albern mumbles something inaudible. At her questioning sound, he raises his mouth just off the covers. 

"I'm fucking gay," he says, matter-of-fact. Mag nods slowly. 

"Is this an "I should kick some homophobe's ass" thing or a "You found a cute boy" thing?"

Albern mumbles again. Mag waits patiently. 

"A hot man, thank you very much," he says. 

She hums thoughtfully. Eyes still on the screen, she gives him a sympathetic pat on the back. 

"Do you want me to kick his ass anyway? I will if he hurt your feelings."

Albern mulls it over for a few moments, then says, voice low, "No need. He's not the issue."

"Then what is?"

He makes a despairing noise. Mag hums. 

"We talked about this, Albern. English."

"I'm an idiot," he says. 

"A given, but I need some specifics if you expect me to help."

He hesitates for a long moment. Then, "You're not allowed to laugh."

Mag hums. "I make no such promises."

And then Albern tells her the story.

* * *

"I don't see the issue here," she says later when Sten is at home and they are all sitting in the living room with one beer each. "If you like him and he keeps coming back, what's the problem?"

Albern gives her a withering look. 

"I don't know how to talk to him, is the problem. What, am I supposed to just ask him out? Put my number next to my misspelling of his name on the cup?"

"See? You don't need us," Sten says amicably. 

"I need some actual conversation to make with him first, you guys. I don't think I can just mess up his name for three weeks and then ask him out."

"Okay," Mag sits up straight and puts her laptop beside her on the sofa. "Why don't you just make some conversation then? It's not that hard."

Albern looks at her as though she has suddenly grown another head. 

"I'm getting the feeling you don't understand flirting at all, Mag. What do I even talk about?"

Raising an eyebrow, she counts on her fingers while keeping stern eye contact with him. 

"The weather, current events, wow your job sure sucks, interests you could have in common, tell him his coffee orders are going to kill him one day, does he like your prosthetic arm, just to name a few."

Ablern stares at her for a long moment. He looks both perplexed and impressed at once. Then he frowns.

""Does he like my arm"?"

Mag shrugs. "You spent hours decorating that thing. Someone might as well appreciate it."

Albern slowly shakes his head. "I think I might scare him away with a question like that, depending on how used he is to it."

Sten chimes in then, "You said he was wearing a football jacket at one point. Why not ask about that?"

Albern perks up at that. In an instant, his mood changes.

"He was. Do you think he's on a team? I can talk to him about that, right?"

"What colour was it?" Sten asks. 

Albern frowns. "It was red. I think it had a silver symbol on the chest? Something like a Transformer's head."

"Those would be the Mystics." Sten nods with approval. "You could do worse than one of those."

Albern snaps his fingers and points in Sten's direction. 

"Much better. That I can work with."

Mag looks between the two of them. She huffs. 

"Sports? You needed our help to come up with that?" she asks incredulously. Albern just about bounces up and out of his chair. 

"I need you for everything. You should know that by now." He gives her a quick, one-armed hug as he walks away. "Thanks guys."

Mag watches him go. She looks at Sten. Sten looks at her. 

"Twenty dollars says it takes him over a month to say anything concrete to this guy," she says. 

Sten nods slowly. "Make it thirty and I'm in."

* * *

Sten wins, but only by the slim margin of two days. 

On a slow day with few people in the shop, Albern finds himself in an argument he has long come to enjoy. In fact, it has just about become the highlight of his week.

“Okay, I’ll cut you a deal” he says, perfectly reasonably, “I am willing to stop with the Gerbil thing, but in return, I get to call you Jennifer.”

Something flashes in Jordel’s eyes, but he cannot quite tell what it is. He guesses at either annoyance or amusement, or some form of active battle between the two. Jordel's hand is wrapped around the coffee on the counter, but he has yet to make a move to lift it. 

“Alright,” he says, “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but if you think you can win me over with shitty sitcom references-“

“Excuse you.” Albern observes himself more than thinks as he jabs a finger in Jordel’s direction. “That show was good up until the end.”

Jordel scoffs. “Are you always wrong about everything, or is that just part of the job description here?”

“I get a pay raise if it helps me sell more coffee.” He says it before he has time to think.

Jordel huffs indignantly. His grip loosens, almost self consciously, around the hot mug. His expression is not quite a smile, but also not too far from it. Albern can count it as a victory, he thinks. He watches Jordel fumble for a reply for a few flustered seconds before he simply gives up, takes his coffee, and makes as if to leave. Just before he does, he turns back. 

“This isn’t over,” he says, and resumes leaving with an exaggerated huff that makes Albern want to grin.

"Oh, I hope not," he says and watches Jordel walk away. 

“Smooth,” Sten says behind him, and Albern is not even startled by it. “What was it again you needed our help with?”

Albern does smile then.

“Sten, my friend, I have no idea how the hell I did that. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go stick my face in the freezer for a bit.” He can already feel his cheeks warming.

Sten gives a sage nod. “Do what you must.”

Albern retreats gratefully into the back, fully prepared for Mag’s inevitable questioning. 

* * *

Two more confusing conversations later, they somehow have each other's numbers for better ease of arguing. It makes more sense to Jordel than it does to any of his friends. 

At least it does until one fateful morning. 

" _You haven't seen Lord of the Rings!?_ "

They have been surprisingly friendly with each other, even bonding over a couple of frivolous things. This news effectively shatters that brittle peace, though Jordel cannot find it within himself to mind. 

Albern types back quickly. "I never got around to it. It's definitely something I plan to do, tho".

Jordel writes back faster than his thumbs have ever been capable of typing. 

"That's not good enough. You can't just not watch Lord of the Rings. Where do you find your joy in life without it?"

"Hey, careful," Albern types back. "Those are my feelings you're stepping on."

Jordel shakes his head fondly. Amusing as he finds Albern, he cannot let this injustice stand. 

"Unacceptable. We have to fix this. When are you free this weekend?"

A long moment passes, and Jordel realises that he just typed that out loud with his body. The sight of it in their chat history is something of an out of body experience. A few seconds pass. 

Albern writes, "Are you inviting me to watch movies with you?"

Well, he will not be recovering from this one in any smooth fashion. He might as well try to lean into it, then. 

"It's just not ok. I can't let you live this ignorant life any longer. How's Sunday afternoon?"

The answer comes quickly. "Seriously, all of my feelings. Also, I work on Sunday. Is Saturday good?"

* * *

Trill picks up the phone on the third ring. 

"Hey, what's up?"

"I need your help," Jordel says immediately. "You need to come here this Saturday and watch Lord of the Rings."

Trill blinks. She glances at Xain, who sits reading on the couch. 

"As much as I would love to fulfil this sacred duty," she says, "we have plans that day."

"The whole day?" Jordel asks, a hint of desperation in his tone. 

"I'm afraid so. Why, what's happening?"

Jordel's silence is very telling, and he confirms her suspicions when he speaks. "I invited Albern over."

They are not talking face to face, and so Trill only has to keep the smile out of her voice. She fails even at that. 

"Did you now?"

"Reserve your judgment for the moment," he says irritably. "I told him he had to come here to watch the movies. He's never seen them."

Trill balks. " _He what_?"

Xain looks up in alarm, but she waves off his worry. He quickly goes back to reading. 

" _I know_ ," Jordel insists. "I told him we had to fix him, but I can't get anyone else to join in. Mag and Sten have an anniversary and Albern has to work Sunday and the next two weekends. I need you two to be here with us, or he's going to think it's a date."

It is by sheer force of will that Trill keeps from rolling her eyes. 

"Yes, that would be the worst thing that could happen here."

"You say that as though it's not true."

These idiot boys, Trill thinks as she shares a look with her husband. Xain does not even know what is being said, and yet he matches it perfectly. She feels a burst of warm fondness for him for understanding her so well.  

"And no one else was available?" she asks. "What about Kal? Or Derrick?"

"Tutoring kids and drama practice, respectively," Jordel grumbles.

"Wow. Your friends are just the worst." Trill laughs. "Looks like you've really got no one."

"No one," he agrees, "You're absolutely sure you can't blow off what you're doing?"

She does feel bad for him in that moment. It keeps her from telling him outright that this will probably be a good thing. She has a feeling he would not listen either way. 

"Sorry, no. We have back to back baby shopping, a doctor's appointment, and dinner with mom and dad. I'm sorry, bud, but I think you asked him on a date."

"Give him my condolences," Xain says solemnly, eyes back on the book. 

Jordel sighs on the other end. "This is the most inconvenient niece or nephew I've ever had, you know that?"

Trill nods. "I'll be sure to tell them that when they get here. Good luck with your date, and don't do anything I wouldn't do."

He groans and hangs up the phone. Xain looks up at her. 

"Trouble in paradise?"

Trill shakes her head. She walks over and settles next to him on the sofa. Automatically, he lays an arm around her. 

"What are we to do with those crazy kids?" she asks. Xain hums in amusement.

"No idea, sweetheart. No idea."


End file.
